In the Light of a Black Hole
by stellae-lux
Summary: On the night they receive their commissions, the Nero survivors of the graduating class gather for one last night surrounded by people who understand what they've been through and what they've lost. Another survivor, Spock finds himself witness to the joys and the sorrows of his students, friends, and shipmates, just as he finds himself drawn to the hero behind it all.


The dance floor at the bar was full to the brim, pushing the dancers into each other's space as they pulsed together to the music. Their semi-formal outfits, ranging from suits to gowns, had all been stripped off until their wearers found themselves in as little clothing as possible to make up for the heat of bodies pressed together. The resulting pile of jackets and sweaters were strewn over the empty tables and bar. The smell of sweat and alcohol and mint permeated the air as the DJ played a mix of fast, wild music from as early as the late eighteenth century up right up to the newest hits. What music had survived the eugenics war had surged into popularity recently, bringing its upbeat dance rhythms with it, and the dancers embraced it wholeheartedly.

It was almost enough to send shivers down Spock's spine, so he declined the invitations he received to join the crowd. Instead, the Vulcan stood regulation perfect in the corner closest to the exit, all senses on alert. Even though he wasn't touching any of the dancers, he could feel their emotions emanating off of them; lust, joy, hope, freedom. He had, of course, been warned beforehand that it would be like this and he would have rejected the invitation if not for the joyous expectation on the faces of the young pair who had delivered the handwritten invitation to his classroom less than a week prior. He would never admit it, but it turned out that Chekov's pout could sway even Spock. Additionally, it was regulation that a faculty member supervise the 'gathering' to ensure it didn't get out of hand, and, as the cadets had argued, he was best suited to the job - this party was theoretically partly for his benefit as well.

Spock pushed back into the coolness of the wall, using it as an anchor against the increasing volume of the music and the building of emotions of those around him. He allowed for a brief moment of regret where he wished that he had had the foresight to wear gloves, which might act as a buffer against the onslaught of fierce pride.

Nevertheless he stayed. He stayed and he watched as Nyota twisted and turned and jumped with Scotty. She was absolutely beautiful and so smart, and he knew again for a moment why they had started their ill-fated affair. She caught his eye and grinned as she tossed her hair. She likely knew far more about his thoughts than she should, but that was just her way.

His eyes stayed on her as she turned back to Scotty, jumping and pumping her fist in the air. He was grateful that they had parted friends, neither side surprised by the inevitable conclusion.

Closer to the DJ, on the edge of the crowed, Sulu and Chekov danced together like no one could see them, though, Spock acknowledged, no one but him could, each caught up in their own world. Sulu said something, too soft in the noise for even Vulcan ears to pick out, that made Chekov laugh, and then leaned in, fastening their lips together. Spock quickly averted his eyes, hoping to spare them and himself any further embarrassment, but allowing them the moment they had deserved.

As his eyes moved to the other side of the room he briefly locked gazes with Leonard, who nodded before looking away again, sipping amber liquid from a square cup. Spock made a mental note of the less-than-friendly but more-than-hostile interaction before moving on, searching for other familiar faces in the crowd.

Many of the bodies belonged to students of his, whose minds he had spent many hours trying to craft into something slightly more Vulcan – slightly more logical. He recited each of their names in his head as he found them. Less than a quarter of the graduating students he was assigned in September remained, but all of those that did he isolated in the crowd.

Then his eyes were caught by a flash of gold that made him forget the waves of emotions crashing over him.

There, near the front, was James Tiberius Kirk, hair slick with sweat and blue eyes blazing as the song blared over the speakers, jumping and dancing and shouting along with the lyrics. He was the only one in the room besides Spock to have kept his suit jacket on, but he didn't seem to notice the heat as he danced ferociously. Spock searched briefly for a dance partner before he concluded that he wasn't dancing with anyone in particular, but his whole class. Perhaps, Spock stopped to speculate, he was dancing for those they had lost. A group of students around him had created an almost circle in which he was the center, emanating joy and truth. It caught to those around him as their smiles became larger and their dancing more emphatic. Fascinating. Spock cocked his head to the side as he watched the blaze of blue and gold ignite a fire that spread through the room and bring another wave of energy rushing at Spock.

Spock found he could hardly care.

He watched the blond man for three more songs, unable to take his eyes off him, until a voice at his elbow said, "He sure is beautiful, huh?"

Spock whipped his head around to stare, carefully blank faced, into Nyota's deep brown eyes.

Upon realizing who he was looking at, he allowed himself to soften a bit, but could only respond, "I am unclear as to your meaning."

Nyota's laugh was like bells. "Sure you are. You're only attracted to minds. You don't notice things like physical beauty. You don't notice the way his eyes are all lit up."

Spock, barely suppressing the urge to look over at the man in question, raised an eyebrow at her, not offering a reply.

Nyota laughed again, full of mirth and not the offense so often taken by humans in response to his nature. He was appreciative that their relationship had not ended in its entirety.

"No, Spock, I know. You know too, though." When he glanced back down at her, prepared to question her about what she thought he knew, she just smiled. "It must be getting a little overwhelming in here for you. Honestly, none of us expected you to stay this long in the first place." She furrowed her brow. "Actually, I think I owe Scotty money since you did. Damn, and I thought I knew you best. Well, second best." She glanced back over towards where Kirk had successfully managed to get his surrounding dancers to do a circular variant of the human practice known as 'the wave.'

He refused to follow her gaze and give her illogical reasoning any kind of backing.

"Anyway, you should get out of here. Just go outside for a few minutes. Catch your breath."

As mentally refreshing as it would be to be able to escape from the onslaught of emotions, he couldn't knowingly leave the cadets without an officer to supervise them, and he said so.

Nyota just rolled her eyes, in an overtly human expression of exasperation. "Technically speaking we're all officers, since we all received orders today. Cutting it kind of close, too. But," She hurried, keeping his refutement of her faulty logic from reaching his lips. "Leonard has been a doctor with Starfleet since he arrived, never mind his Cadet status. All you need is a faculty member. He counts. I checked."

Spock found no error in this logic, and so the only logical thing to do would be to follow her suggestion and clear his head. However, he found himself hesitating, looking back over the crowd. "These cadets will be markedly different from their predecessors."

If Nyota noticed the quick subject switch, she said nothing. "We will. We have to be. Nero survivors are a new kind of cadet. Especially everyone who served with us."

She didn't have to clarify 'us' being the Enterprise.

Spock murmured quietly in Vulcan, looking at the students, and once more at Jim Kirk, who was leading a display of some sort of dance form involving a lot of spinning and jumping and being upside down.

"Bloodied but unbowed." Nyota echoed in Standard.

They stood for another moment, looking out at the surviving cadets of the USS Enterprise, looking out at a blond man with blazing blue eyes. They may have stayed there forever, but Spock suddenly felt Kirk's eyes lock with his, and, startled by the depth and clarity of the blue from even so far away, he excused himself and went out to the garden to clear his head.

The night air was almost shocking against Spock's too warm skin. Despite his biological advantage, the room had been too warm for even a Vulcan to be completely comfortable. He had finally discovered the reasoning behind the minimal clothing worn during the 'clubbing' activity so many of them enjoyed.

He had removed his suit jacket and folded it carefully on a nearby bench before he began his meditation, attempting to remove the feeling of the waves of emotion that had left a feeling sort of like a layer of dust against his skin. He was just cleaning the final corners of his mind when he felt the presence of another.

He quickly tied up his loose ends and opened his eyes to find James T. Kirk leaning against the bench, looking sheepish.

"Sorry man, I didn't mean to disturb you. I shouldn't have gotten up."

"You did not." Spock said carefully, noticing the implication that he'd been sitting there for a prolonged period of time and filing it away.

"Spock, I did get up, that's why I'm standing. You alright?"

Spock didn't sigh, but it was only because Vulcans _don't_ sigh. "You did not," he repeated carefully, "disturb me. I was nearly finished anyway."

Kirk visibly brightened, an easy, practiced grin coming to his face, "Oh, awesome. Cause, my leg was cramping and I was trying so hard not to move, but, like I _had_ to man. It was just real painful."

Spock watched the man in front of him very carefully as he continued to talk. This was not the same man that had just been dancing inside, the force of his joy too powerful to be contained. This man was trying to avoid something. Or was frightened of something. Probably. The enigma that was Jim Kirk was still elusive to Spock, but intriguing. Nevertheless, he strongly suspected this chatty persona to be false, and so decided the best option would be to test his hypothesis.

"Congratulations, Captain." Spock mentally checked his hypothesis as correct when Kirk started. "Your promotion was brought to my attention."

Kirk's smile faltered momentarily, but when it dropped back into place it was measurably more authentic.

Fascinating.

"Thank you, sir."

"I am now your subordinate, sir. You need not use 'sir' when talking to me."

"Old habits die hard, I guess."

There was a long pause where the two men existed in silence, Kirk still learning against the bench, Spock still cross legged on the edge of the fountain. Spock pointedly ignored the odd non-sequitur about habits and focussed on his comprehensive list of more important questions.

Finally, Spock found himself unable to restrain his curiosity. "Captain, why –"

"Call me Jim." He interrupted immediately.

Spock bowed his ascent. "Jim." The smile that quirked the corner of Kirk's – Jim's – mouth was well worth the slight discomfort of calling someone he'd served under by their first name. "Why did you come out here?"

For a moment Spock was afraid that Jim would not answer. The blond man looked down at his foot, drawing a figure eight in the sand. But Spock was patient, and so he sat and waited.

Finally, Jim sighed. "Have you ever played Yahtzee?"

This was not one of the 1 400 394 responses Spock had expected to his question, but Jim's speech patterns were often illogical. "I am unfamiliar with this game." Perhaps you would teach me.

Jim shook his head, blond hair swinging freely. "I didn't think so. It's a stupid game." He added quickly. "Highly reliant on luck. Okay, what about poker?"

Spock immediately retrieved from his memory all of the poker lessons he had received from Nyota in payment for his help with her thesis. "I must admit a degree of familiarity."

Jim laughed. "You'd probably beat my sorry ass, but anyways." He pushed himself off the bench and began pacing. "In poker there are two ways to win. At the most base level. Two ways." He held up to fingers, counting off his points with his other hand. "You can get the cards, or you can bluff."

Spock repressed the urge to respond by correcting Jim's not _entirely_ inaccurate summation of poker and simple nodded. "That is my experience." He added when Jim didn't say anything.

"Good." Jim sighed again. "Well, Yahtzee is…basically you roll five dice a bunch of times to try and fulfill a set of requirements. You get more points for some and for better rolls, but at the end of the day the only way to win is to get all the rolls."

Unfamiliar as he was with the game, Spock found it likely that this simplification was as flawed as Jim's explanation of Poker. Still, he said nothing.

"The difference is," Jim continued, entirely caught up in whatever problem he was attempting to solve. "in poker you can bluff. In Yahtzee there is no bluffing; everything is right there for everyone to see. We beat Nero with strategy and luck and a lot of forcing things to work even though there was a very small probability that it would. We rolled like six Yahtzee's." Jim's pacing grew more frantic. "What if it's all like that? What if we're not playing poker, what if we're playing Yahtzee, and it's going to be all luck and we can't bluff our way out of everything? I don't have the experience I should. I don't have the experience I _need_. They've given me a ship based on one mission. I'm going to get everyone killed! I-"

"Jim."

Spock's voice was soft, but Jim heard it. Lost blue eyes met calm brown ones and Spock unfolded his legs and walked to where Jim had stopped near a second bench. He placed himself firmly in front of the blond man and folded his arms into the small of his back before continuing. "Your ability to bluff your way out of situations is exponentially greater than anyone I have ever known and I have no doubt that you will be able to use such a skill as the Captain of a space vessel. Whether or not we rolled several 'Yahtzee's,' as you say, in our mission with Nero does not negate the fact that you, as a cadet, took control of a vessel and proceeded to remove the biggest threat to the Federation that has ever existed. There are many cadets who could not have done so with or without your 'Yahtzee's.' Furthermore," He said, taking a step closer as Jim looked as though he was going to attempt to argue, "The admiralty is, in fact, not only looking at your 'one mission,' they also have three years of advanced command track data to look through, including three attempts at the Kobayashi Maru, during one of which you actually passed the exam, which was, as you argued, programmed to be unwinnable. They are also basing their decision off of your behaviour since the end of the Nero mission which, from what I have observed, has been beyond exemplary as you and your contempories pick up the slack left by those you lost while still remaining positive and efficient, you in particular beyond what the rest of your class has done." Spock took another step forward so that he was towering over the other man. "You may not have the experience of other older captains, but that is what you must gain when you request your first officer. Your choice there will give you the experience you need, though I doubt." He added, an almost smile twitching the corner of his mouth, "that you will often listen."

Jim stood there for a moment looking up at Spock, shock suppressing his need to argue his point. Spock had just enough time to wonder at how many shades of blue were in the depths of Kirk's eyes when suddenly the blond man surged up and then his mouth was on Spock's and it was warm and beautiful and hard, and he had arms wrapped around his neck, and passion and something else Spock didn't recognize streamed through their points of contact.

Spock froze. Had he seen it coming at all Jim would likely be the unfortunate recipient of a nerve pinch, so in that way it was beneficial that Spock was frozen. The unfortunate side effect, however, was that Spock could not respond to the kiss. Jim's emotions man swept over him – relief, fear, joy – as Spock began to adjust to the unexpected physical contact. Just as he talked his body into responding – in some way, any way – Kirk pulled back.

"Shit. I'm sorry. Fuck. _Fuck._ I'm so sorry Spock that wasn't supposed to happen. _Shit._ " The stream of expletives Kirk let loose then would have impressed even Leonard. Glancing around, he was quite obviously preparing to bolt when Spock regained his mental facilities.

"Jim."

Jim stopped in the middle of a Vulcan expletive. Spock made a mental note to ask him later where he learned it, but his priorities were here and now. He moved closer to him as though he were a frightened animal.

"I'm sorry, Spock. I'm really sorry."

"Jim."

"Spock?"

"This is illogical."

Then he cut off the cadet's words with another kiss, but this time he was in control, and so it wasn't hard or fast or passionate – it was logical. Spock kissed Jim softly but thoroughly, sweetly but entirely; entirely logically.

Jim froze too, but Spock had just experienced that, albeit for more telepathic reasons, and wasn't prepared to let it frighten him. In a moment, Jim was kissing him back, trying to speed it up to his pace. Spock allowed the rush of relief at Jim's response, but he didn't let him take control. Instead, he kissed him slowly and perfectly and in every way he'd ever hoped to kiss someone – although, he realized, for several months that 'someone' had been Jim. He wasn't precisely sure when it started, but it had existed for a lot longer than he had been willing to recognize it for.

His hands found Jim's face, running the pad of his thumb along his cheekbones and brushing the sweat plastered hair off his forehead. His fingertips brushed Jim's psy-points and the soft 'oh' he received in response to the sparks it produced filled him with so much want – want to be the only one Jim would ever love, want to spend every waking minute doing this, want to belong to him – that he pulled Jim as close as he could, kissing him deeper, trying to tell him what he himself had only realized earlier that night.

When Spock was sure that he'd kissed the illogical, infuriating man as thoroughly as he could, unsure he would be given another chance, he pulled back, Vulcan control the only thing keeping him from gasping for air. Never had anyone so effectively shattered his mental barriers.

Jim didn't have Vulcan control to help him, so he sat there, chest heaving, looking so intently at the Vulcan that Spock thought he might melt. He inwardly rejoiced in his earlier self for not having the foresight to wear gloves as he lifted his fingers to brush the top of Jim's arm. The pit of emotions he found there were no more easily discernable than his own.

Finally, after a full minute of silence, Jim laughed. Spock nearly jumped at the sound.

"Just so you know, I sent the request before this happened."

"Sir?"

"Spock we just made out like no one has ever made out before. Please call me Jim."

Spock felt the tips of his ears grow hot, but suppressed the reaction as illogical. It didn't help that Jim had noticed and had reached out to pet the tips of one of his ears. He couldn't help the little coo of pleasure that resulted in Jim's laughter. His ears felt hotter, but he ignored it

. "Jim?"

"Yes?"

"What request?"

Jim laughed again. "For first officer. I want you. And not just because of all of this." He said, gesticulating wildly as if to measure some force between them. "Because I think you and I make a great team, with my impulsiveness and your stick up the ass follow the rules shit – it's a compliment, I swear – and because you're not afraid to stand up to me and also" he added, voice hushed, "because you're beautiful and I want to get to know you beyond fighting over the best way to take down genocidal freaks."

Something about the sentence was so _Jim_ that the only logical thing for Spock to do was to lean in and kiss him again.

Withdrawing, Spock revelled in the sense of accomplishment as those blue eyes blinked open, pupils wide. "I would be honoured to serve as First Officer aboard the USS Enterprise. And not just," He added, eyes sparkling with otherwise unexpressed mirth. "Because of this."

Jim laughed.

There was another brief interlude of silence, both more comfortable and more unsure than the last as they both reflected on the events of the evening.

"You really think we can do it?" Jim asked finally, and Spock knew he wasn't just asking about captaining the flagship anymore.

"Yes, Jim. I do."


End file.
